gap raze a statement of intent is just a photograph. the image doesn't tell me anything i don't already know. i sweep away the spent shells of salted seeds and wrestle with a suitcase too stubborn to be coaxed into closing. i never could turn my back on the past. there's a black_cat with gold beads haunting the margins of its mouth. a string of pearls out of season. half eaten. half worn. on a dust-dappled tv screen, a man is reunited with his wife at the harbour they call home. his face breaks when he sees her. he was sure she'd drowned. i crawl across coffee-coloured carpet to the room i hid in when i was a frightened animal who didn't know his own body. there are two shirts to choose from. one is blue and torn almost past the point of being anything at all. the other is red. it's been with me since my terror-soaked teenage years. behind my bed there's a hole in the wall. it looks down onto a clean concrete floor. i lean a warped square of wood against the gap — an improvised door to ward off the world for as long as it stays standing. 250905 what's it to you? who go blather from